Chapter 17: Wish

A/N: Okay, Cesare was so cute in the last chapter. But it's kind of depressing that I have to practically break Chiaro's mind to make him admit he wants something. *sigh

"What do you think, doctor?" Cesare asked, looking on in alarm as Chiaro tossed and turned and cringed away when the doctor touched him, crying out.

"Well… the paralysis seems to have faded," the doctor said, pulling back and sounding nervous. "But the high fever is probably causing severe nightmares, possibly even hallucinations. If he recovers, they should go away too."

"When he recovers," Cesare corrected. He sat down in the bed and caught hold of Chiaro. "Chiaro, look at me."

Chiaro pulled away, giving a cry. "No, no, please!" he shouted. "Please, I don't want to die!"

"Chiaro, it's me. It's Cesare."

Chiaro blinked a few times. "Ce… Cesare?"

"Yes. It's okay." He sat closer, and Chiaro, far from pulling away, clutched onto him.

"Do you know, it's funny," the doctor said, watching as Cesare adjusted his position to hold Chiaro closely. "I'd heard that you were a heartless, ruthless man. Are all the stories lies, then?"

"No," Cesare said. "I am. But not when I'm with Chiaro. Chiaro is my heart."

"I… see." The doctor smiled a little. "Then I hope you stay close to him."

"So do I," Cesare said softly.

…

"Just give up."

Chiaro winced at the voice in his nightmare. Go away. Even his mental voice sounded exhausted.

"Even if you survive, you're only postponing the inevitable. How much longer do you think you'll have with him?"

Chiaro didn't answer. He couldn't think about that right now.

Was this how Cesare felt all the time? Always exhausted, always in pain? What had he done, allowing the demons to heal Cesare? I'm sorry.

"Are you giving up?"

No. I'll beat you.

"Good luck with that," the voice replied sarcastically. "Idiot."

…

Chiaro's nightmares continued, seeming to grow progressively worse. Sometimes, they continued even when Cesare held him. He'd cling to Cesare, sobbing and apologizing or begging him not to leave. Cesare could only hold him tighter and try to comfort him, but it was difficult when he was nearly weeping at his own helplessness. Chiaro could send away his nightmares with a single touch. Why could he do nothing for Chiaro?

The afternoon of the second day made him wonder if he was actually making the nightmares worse. He'd helped Chiaro to the privy then gone to use it himself, and when he'd come back Chiaro had stared at him in horror. "No!" he shouted, backing up against the headboard of the bed. "Don't touch me! Don't come near me! Those golden eyes…." He covered his face with his hands.

Cesare took several steps backward and glanced at his reflection in the window glass. His eyes weren't golden. Was Chiaro remembering something? "Chi… Chiaro…?" He started to take a few steps forward.

"No!" Chiaro shouted again. "You demon! You monster! Don't touch me!"

Cesare backed away again, swallowing the pain of Chiaro's words but feeling like he'd been stabbed.

"Cesare," Chiaro said, burying his face in his hands again. "Never, never. He'll never be like you. Cesare will never be like you!"

Cesare froze. Who was Chiaro talking to? Well… how many other demoniacs had Chiaro known?

"Cesare?" Chiaro's voice sounded suddenly frightened. "Cesare? Cesare!"

Cesare stepped forward quickly and caught Chiaro by the shoulders. Chiaro blinked several times, trembling, before suddenly hugging Cesare tightly. "Thank God," he whispered. "You're safe."

Cesare didn't even know how to react to that. He started laughing. "You idiot," he said, hugging Chiaro gently. "You worry about me even in your nightmares?"

"Don't leave me," Chiaro begged, still clinging to him. "Please."

"I won't," Cesare said, becoming serious. "I promise. I'm right here."

"Yes, you will," Chiaro said, burying his face against Chiaro's shoulder.

"No," Cesare promised, shaking his head.

"You will," Chiaro said, his voice a little louder, almost a sob. "You'll let them have you."

Cesare paused. "I…."

"Because you want to conquer the world… you'll keep getting help from them, again, and again, and again, and every time you'll give them a little more… until there's nothing left. And I know it's my fault they're there to begin with, but… but…." He was definitely crying now.

"Chiaro…." Cesare rubbed his back, trying to soothe him.

"I'm always thinking about it," Chiaro said. "How much time do I have left? A few years? A few weeks? What if something happens, and you're gone in the morning?" He gave a soft sob and buried his face again. "I've never had a friend like you," he whispered. "I want you to stay with me, more than anything. I know… it's selfish, but…." Another stifled sob. "I'm sorry."

Cesare closed his eyes, finally understanding. This was the request Chiaro had never made. The thing he wanted more than anything, but would never ask for. Suddenly, the many times Chiaro had said he didn't want to lose Cesare had much greater meaning. He was dreading losing Cesare. How many times had his heart broken watching Cesare use his demon powers? What must he have felt when he saw Cesare's hands? Was this why he was so desperate to heal Cesare, to the point where he begged Cesare to drink his blood?

"I've never had a friend like you." Doubtful, Cesare drew Chiaro a little closer. He couldn't actually be the best friend Chiaro had ever had, could he? He wasn't even a very good friend. Had the little bit of affection he'd shown Chiaro meant this much to him? Chiaro hadn't even allowed it half the time. Was that another thing Chiaro wanted and would never ask for?

Cesare wanted so badly to grant this wish. Could he keep the demons from taking him? Perhaps keep drinking Chiaro's blood? But no, that hadn't actually worked. He hadn't told Chiaro, but he could feel some part of his essence missing where the demons had been purged, and it hadn't been replaced with humanity. It was just gone. Chiaro's blood couldn't heal him. Nothing could. But… if he was very, very careful, and never willingly took help from the demons again, was it possible he could stay the way he was now?

But what about conquering the world? If he never took help from the demons again, could he still do it? He closed his eyes, thinking of the Vatican, and his father, and Lucrezia, and a united Italy. He thought of wars, and assassinations, and fields of blood, and Chiaro's tears. Did he even want to conquer the world anymore? Was there any way out if he didn't?

If Cesare did stop trying to conquer the world, could he go on like this indefinitely? It would be so very painful, but… but Chiaro would be with him to drive away the pain. He would need to stay impossibly close to Chiaro, though. Whenever the demons couldn't get his soul, they attacked his body instead, punishing him, like they had with his hand. He couldn't always be beside Chiaro. One way or another, the demons would take him in the end, no matter what he did. And then Chiaro would have to kill him, because no one else could. There was no way out. It was hopeless.

Chiaro's arms loosened and he grew heavy in Cesare's arms. He'd fallen asleep without waiting for an answer. Perhaps he hadn't expected one. Cesare adjusted him so he was lying in his lap again. Are you happy? he asked himself bitterly. He'd wanted this. He'd wanted Chiaro to want to be with him, not only for Cesare's sake, but for Chiaro's own sake. Cesare had wanted to be needed. He'd wanted Chiaro's happiness to depend on him to an extent. And now that it did, Cesare realized he'd wanted Chiaro to want something he couldn't deliver. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll do the best I can, but I don't think I can stay with you as long as you want me to. I wish I could." He felt tears in his eyes and blinked at them. No one could save him. All he could do was postpone the inevitable. "I'm sorry."

…

Volpe stepped into the room with a sigh. Cesare was still holding Chiaro in his lap. The latter had fallen asleep, though Cesare was still awake looking haggard. "How is he?" he asked.

"Shh," Cesare whispered. "I don't know."

"All fingers already point to you for the massacre," Volpe said more softly, approaching. "The longer you stay in hiding, the guiltier you'll look."

"Did you send the message to my father telling him I was safe but was being detained?"

"Yes, his reply was to ask for more specific information, and that you should return to Rome as quickly as possible and explain yourself."

Cesare sighed. "I can't go anywhere, Tagio."

"Can't we leave him with the doctor?"

"No. We don't even know if we can trust the doctor."

"Cesare… you don't even know that he'll recover. It's been three days already. He might have lost his mind entirely, and you've been gone from Rome for almost a week."

"What would you have me do?" Cesare asked.

Volpe opened his mouth to suggest that Cesare put Chiaro out of his misery, then closed it. Cesare wouldn't. He knew Cesare wouldn't, because the only thing in all this world that Cesare cared about was Chiaro, to the point where everything else, including Volpe, Rome, his father the Pope, his own wellbeing, conquering the world, and all of Italy took second place, if even that. There was no point in making the suggestion, especially since by Cesare's eyes, he'd already figured out what Volpe was about to say and didn't appreciate it. Volpe sighed. "Do you what you think is best," he said, and left the room to go and play chess with the doctor, who really ought to be dead by now. Would Cesare ever be himself again?

…

Chiaro jerked in Cesare's lap, waking him up. He was staring into nothing again, eyes wide with horror. "No," he said. "Why? Why? Please, father… please, don't…!" He suddenly pulled away burying his face in his hands. "No, no, no, no, no, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He started trembling and crying.

"Chiaro…." Cesare put a hand on his back, but it didn't seem to make a difference.

"I'm sorry," Chiaro cried, "I'm so sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't, I don't want to, I hate killing people, I hate it, why do I have to? I can never get the blood off, never, never…."

Cesare felt a throb of guilt. "I'm… sorry," he said softly.

"I didn't want to kill him," Chiaro said suddenly, looking at Cesare. "He was kind to me. I didn't understand, and he tried to kill me, he said he had to save me so I could die while my soul was still innocent, and I was scared. I'm sorry. I'm sorry…." He buried his face in his hands again.

Cesare slowly breathed out. So, Chiaro had had a Marrone as well.

"Don't you know me, Dad?" he whispered. "Why? Why can't he be free?" He began to cry again. Was he going to be tormented by every bad memory he had before this was over? Cesare pulled him close.

"Cesare," he whispered. "Cesare Borgia? That's Cesare Borgia? What is he, fifteen? I have to kill kids now? Kids younger than me?"

Cesare raised his eyebrows and looked at Chiaro, but Chiaro wasn't looking at him. Chiaro put a hand to his face. "Chiaro, it's him or your father, you know who comes first." He sighed. "Pity. I kind of like his pluck. In another life we might have been friends."

Cesare couldn't help a smile at this. "Chiaro," he said quietly, hoping he'd wake up.

"God, Chiaro, what are you thinking?" Chiaro muttered. "Getting attached to your target? How lonely are you?" He drew in a breath that sounded like it hurt. "Forget it," he whispered. "Assassins don't have friends. I will never have a friend. But if… if I can do this, I might at least have my father."

Interesting. They'd apparently offered Chiaro his father's freedom in return for Cesare's death. Why on earth hadn't Chiaro killed him? Especially when he'd asked to be killed? Chiaro would have been so much better off. "Chiaro," he said, shaking him a little. "You have a friend. I'm right here."

Chiaro looked at him and blinked a few times, then smiled. "Cesare. I was just thinking about you." He snuggled into Cesare. "I'm so very lucky," he whispered, "to have you as my friend."

Cesare felt his face grow warm. "Idiot," he muttered. Chiaro really had a habit of making friends with people who were bad for him. Prince Djem. His father. Whoever had tried to kill him in his memory. And definitely Cesare. Though really, if he hadn't made friends with Cesare, he might have taken up with someone even worse. If that were possible.

"I'm sorry," Chiaro said suddenly, hiding his face in Cesare's shoulder. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I didn't know what to do, and I didn't want you to die."

It took Cesare a moment to figure out what Chiaro was remembering. Did Chiaro really still feel guilty about not killing him when he'd asked? "I forgave you for that ages ago," Cesare said. "Don't worry."

Chiaro relaxed a little. "Such a very, very good king," he whispered.

"That's a bit of a stretch even coming from you, don't you think?" Cesare asked. The compliment was so off the mark he wondered if Chiaro was talking about someone else. But how many other people would Chiaro call his king? He leveled himself down, pulling Chiaro with him. "Go to sleep," he said. "Your king commands you."

"Okay," Chiaro said, and he proceeded to do so. Cesare smiled a little. Worried as he was, and guilty as he felt about not being able to promise Chiaro what he wanted, he couldn't help feeling happy that for once he was the one doing the comforting and caring for, and Chiaro was letting him. He had no idea how Chiaro would feel about all of this once he was well, but at least Cesare could enjoy it now. And it did seem like Cesare was getting better. At least he usually recognized Cesare now, even if he occasionally forgot he was there. Cesare promised himself that, as long as it took, he would stay with Chiaro and offer him what comfort he could until he was well again.

"Oh," he said, suddenly realizing. He wanted to give. He understood the feeling now of wanting to give to someone beloved. He felt it himself. He didn't know how he did, but he did. "I love you," he whispered. He smiled. So, he had come to cherish his angel after all. How extraordinary. Finally, Cesare closed his eyes and went to sleep.

A/N 2: Oh. My. Gosh. Cesare. Actually. Gets it. Finally. Not that it'll do him a ton of good, since he doesn't know what to do, but at least it's a start. I feel so bad for him, though. He's right, he can't save himself just by denying the demons; he's not strong enough.